


Bed-Sharing Leads to Unintended Consequences

by NotVerySmol



Series: Dragon!Draco AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Inheritance, Fluff, M/M, draco's a dragon, kinda angsty? not really, tiny bit of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotVerySmol/pseuds/NotVerySmol
Summary: Although Harry and Draco grew closer in Eighth Year when they were forced to share a room, Harry still wouldn't say that they were close enough to share a bed. Strangely enough, Draco seemed to disagree.~~~~Or how Harry's close watching (*cough*obsession*cough*) of Draco leads to something better for both of them.





	Bed-Sharing Leads to Unintended Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore the overuse of italics pls, I was in that kinda mood.

**Harry POV**

Although Harry and Draco grew closer in Eighth Year when they were forced to share a room, Harry still wouldn't say that they were close enough to share a bed. Strangely enough, Draco seemed to disagree.

Well, Draco never really answered Harry when he asked Draco what in Merlin's name he was doing in Draco's bed, he just didn't let Harry leave. Seriously. Whenever Harry tried to crawl out of bed, Draco would grab him by the arm, or leg, or back of his shirt or whatever and make a little whimper noise that was honestly so adorable it should've been _illegal_ , and Harry just had to climb back under the covers.

The funniest thing about it though was that Draco never seemed to acknowledge that this even _happened_. One morning when Harry woke up, Draco was already in the shower, and when he _finally_ came out of the shower because Holy Circe he took long to get ready, he just looked at Harry for a few seconds before asking, "What the bloody hell are you doing in my bed, Potter?" And Harry spluttered and waved his hands and dear Godric his face must've been a tomato because Draco simply laughed it off before telling Harry to at least _attempt_ to run a comb through his hair that day. And this continued for quite a while. Harry would wake up somewhere between 11 and 3, realize he's in Draco's bed, try to leave but Draco wouldn't let him, and get out of bed while Draco's in the shower the next morning because he didn't seem to remember that he didn't let Hary _leave_ when he wanted to.

And honestly? Harry was completely satisfied with being able to share a bed with Draco, even if Draco never remembered.

 

  
**Draco POV**

You could imagine Draco's surprise when he found out that _he_ , the son of _Lucius Malfoy_ and _Narcissa Malfoy nee Black,_  who came from two prestigious family lines of traditional pureblood lineage, had _dragon blood_ running through his veins. He nearly threw a fit in Gringotts. That was in September.

Now it was late November, and Draco had grown into his dragon-ness. He had accepted that his great-great-great-great x3 grandmother had a weird fetish that resulted in- well,- him. He had accepted the obsession with gold and other shiny things, and now had a small stash under his bed to quell his want to steal possibly every piece of gold cutlery in the Great Hall. He had accepted his wings that decided to make themselves known with every strong feeling he experienced and was exceptional at schooling his emotions. He had even accepted the horrid red scales that marred his perfect complexion, keeping them under wraps with a clever glamour spell that was so strong he doubted Hermione Granger herself could ever break or remove it. So, yes. Draco had accepted almost every single thing about his sudden inheritance, with only _one_  tiny exception.

Draco was informed that he'd have a mate. Someone that he trusted with his life and that trusted him in return. He was supposed to be able to choose who his mate was, unlike veelas. There was one problem: he had no clue who this mate was.

You see, the book he had bought on magical creatures (even though he was still half-wizard, he doubted full-blooded wizards would still view him as one) told him that only once he had met his mate and become of age would he receive his creature inheritance. But who was this mate? Just about every single wizard or witch at Hogwarts absolutely despised him for his part in the war. Almost none of his fellow Slytherins stayed for their eighth year and the ones that did stay ignored him out of self-preservation. He didn't blame them; he'd probably ignore himself, too. His only friend (it was more like an acquaintance that didn't utterly hate him, really) was Luna Lovegood, and Draco had discovered long ago that he was incredibly, irreversibly _gay_. So she wasn't an option.

However, recently he had been experiencing unusual things. Nothing _too_ out of the ordinary, just a little different than usual. While he slept, he felt warm and comfy, a stark difference from the beginning of the year, when he was constantly cold and afraid. Now all he wanted to do was stay in bed all day. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, if his every move wasn't being watched by the Ministry of Magic, ready to send him back to Azkaban if he so much as breathed wrong. It really made mornings hell, when he had to drag himself into the shower during the wee hours of the morning to start his day, so tired he could barely see in front of him. And when he dragged himself out of the shower and collapsed back into his bed, he found it devoid of all the warmth he so clearly remembered from not even 30 minutes ago. It was frustrating, to say the least.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing?" Professor Flitwick's sharp voice practically stung his ears and he jumped awake. This was probably the third time he had fallen asleep in class, and even Flitwick-who had treated him kindly this year, excusing his tardies and occasional late homework assignments- couldn't ignore this.

He toddled over to his desk, stopping next to Draco. Draco kept his eyes on the floor, maybe seeming a little bit pitiful would work in his favor. "This is at least the third time you've fallen asleep, in this past month alone! I'm afraid I'm going to have to assign you a detention tonight, at 8 o'clock sharp with me."

Or maybe it wouldn't.

Murmurs of laughter filled the room, and Draco lowered his head a little more. "Yes Professor," He murmured. Flitwick waddled back to the front of the classroom, to continue the lesson.

A sharp elbow hit his side and Draco winced at the pain. "That's what you get, filthy Deatheater," Zacharias Smith hissed into his ear, and Draco winced again at the sharp blow the words caused. It was funny; just a few years ago he had been spitting all-too-similar words towards muggleborns and blood-traitors, and now here he was on the receiving end. It was definitely more enjoyable to Draco when _he_ was the one spewing harsh things.

Draco kept his head down and jotted down nonsensical notes for the rest of the class.

Once the students were dismissed for lunch, Draco packed his bookbag as fast as he could and practically raced out of the classroom. There was no way he was going to stay in there a moment longer, what with everyone laughing at him.

  

  
**Harry POV**

Harry could've thrown Smith across the room when he saw him elbow Draco and whisper in his ear, and had to restrain himself from hexing-no, _cursing_ him when Draco's eyes remained downcast for the rest of the period. He nearly _crucio_ -d him when Draco ran out of class.

Harry threw his things into his bag almost as fast as Draco did and, waving off Ron's questions, fast-walked out of the classroom. He paused after walking into the hall; he had no clue which direction Draco took. He dashed off the main hall into a little side corridor and whipped out the Marauder's Map. After tapping the parchment and saying the words (which were more like a mantra now) he scanned the paper, unfolding it as he went until he _finally_ found Draco's name making a mad dash across the second floor. He began jogging down the hallway and stuffed the map into his bookbag once he saw Draco enter Myrtle's bathroom. Because _of course_ he would go there, he always did.

Harry sprinted into the bathroom, looking around so fast he could barely see anything. But even his frantic head shaking couldn't stop him from spotting Draco leaning over the sink with Moaning Myrtle consoling him, a sight unusually similar to one he had previously walked in on in Sixth year. But this time was starkly different; this time there was a pair of freakin' _wings_ jutting out of Draco's back, just next to his shoulder blades.

"There, there," Myrtle was saying sympathetically, "It's okay Draco, Smith didn't know what he was talking about. He doesn't know what you've gone through. If he does that again, just tell me and I'll haunt every toilet he tries to use for the rest of the year! He'll never touch you again, I'll..." She kept talking but Draco's eyes had just met Harry's through the mirror, and they both stopped listening to what she had to say.

Draco's mouth flattened into a barely visible line. "Potter," He spat, "What're you doing here? Don't you have to go eat with the Weasel and Granger?" His words were probably meant to be harsh and cold, but he was obviously too tired to even get under Harry's skin. Not that he did much, lately.

"Draco," Harry greeted. "Lovely wings you've got there."

Draco whirled around at this, whipping out his wand and pointing it level to Harry's face. "I swear to Merlin, Potter, so much as a _word_ to your lackeys and I'll-"

"You'll what?" Harry cut him off. "No offense Draco, but you couldn't so much as stupefy me without getting expelled."

Draco glowered. "And I'm sure you're absolutely _ecstatic_ about that, Potter. Now, if you'll excuse me." He retracted his wings before slipping on his shirt and stalking past Harry. But before he could leave, Harry snatched his wrist.

"Wait, Draco," He pleaded, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been rude. I'm just worried about you-"

Draco laughed humourlessly. "The great Harry Potter, worried about _me_? I doubt it."

"No, Draco, I really am sorry and I really am worried about you and-"

"Oh, sure," Draco let out another hollow chuckle. "Like you'd ever be sorry." He took his arm away from Harry. "You keep telling yourself that, Potter."

Harry frowned. What was with Draco, and what in Merlin's name was this out-of-character response? "No, Draco. I told you, I'm sorry I was rude, and I'm sorry that the entire school treats you like hippogriff shit, and I'm worried about you."

Draco glanced back at Harry incredulously. "You can't be serious. It's been _months_ since the year started, _months_ since Smith decided that I was actually _worse_ than hippogriff shit, I'll have you know, and only now are you worried about me? I always knew you were a bit of a dick, Potter, but this is something else." Draco took a few steps closer to Harry, up until their noses were almost touching, and when Draco spoke next, Harry was almost too distracted by the feeling of Draco's breath on his face to hear what he was saying. "So please fuck off."

Oh.

Draco turned on his heel, and with a swoosh of his robes that can only be learned after having Snape as your head of house for six years and headmaster for one, started to stride out of the bathroom.

Harry ran after Draco again, and grabbed his wrist and spun him around. "Draco, wait-"

"For the sake of Merlin himself, WHY DO YOU KEEP GRABBING ME?" Draco moved to fast for Harry to fully understand what happened, but whatever did happen ended with Harry sprawled against the opposite wall of the bathroom with an _extremely_ pissed off Draco marching towards him with his wings flared out in rage. "I literally keep trying to walk away, why do you insist on keeping me here?"

Harry scrambled to sit up just in time as Draco knelt in front of him. Draco reached out to the collar of Harry's shirt, probably to punch him, but Harry moved faster than he thought he could. Harry grabbed Draco's arm with one hand and Draco's waist with the other and pulled him close, and then, if they were upright, they looked to be engaged in a _very_ intimate slow dance, with Draco's head on his shoulder and Harry leaning forward so he could whisper into Draco's ear.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered into his ear, and did he just feel Draco shiver? "I'm so sorry that I keep grabbing you, but I can't just let you walk away from me. And as for me being a dick-" Harry chuckled, and this time he _definitely_  felt Draco's body vibrate. Maybe it was shivering, maybe he was purring, who knew- "I know that I can be one, but I've been paying attention all year, Draco, and I only got up the courage to talk to you about it today."

Draco swallowed, and Harry knew because he felt it, right there where Draco's throat was pressed up against Harry's shoulder- "Why? Why have you been paying attention?"

Harry tightened the arm he had around Draco's waist, and Draco let out a goddamn _whimper_. "I'm not quite sure. But I do know that I like you- like a _lot_ \- and those two are probably connected." He felt Draco let out a little whispery laugh, and Harry's heart just about soared. "And I know that I'd like to figure out where it could go- if you're alright with it, I mean." He held his breath as he waited for a reply.

 

   
**Draco POV**

Draco was holding as still as he could on Harry's lap, too afraid to even think of moving. This should've felt wrong. Every ounce of logic in Draco's body deemed that this was _wrong_. He knew that he should be pushing away, should be scrambling off of Harr- _Potter's_  lap and hexing him until he couldn't walk in a straight line, but with the words Harry was whispering in his ear, Draco's mind was at a stand-still. Something in the back of Draco's head that he didn't even know was _there_ was absolutely overjoyed to be in this position with _Harry_ , to have _Harry_ whispering to him like this, and this little something in Draco's head almost _screamed_ at how positively _right_ all this was. And Draco had pretty much no clue what was going on until that little voice decided to specify exactly what it was that it was so jubilant about.

_MATE._

At this, Draco tensed up so much that he was pretty sure his knees were squeezing the life out of Harry's thighs. And the worst part was that Draco knew the voice was right as soon as it spoke. He knew Harry was his mate.

"Erm, Draco?" Harry called softly to him, "Draco, are you okay?"

Drac blinked, his eyes shifting back into focus, and he realized that he'd been staring directly at Harry's nose. He felt his face heat up. "Er- yeah, I'm fine." And he silently cursed himself because Malfoy's did _not_ stutter, but then Harry spoke again and Draco's mind went blank.

"So would you? Be interested in figuring this out, I mean." Harry gestured to where Draco was sitting on his lap, and Draco felt himself flush again. _Damn it_.

"Er-I-y-yeah, sure," He managed to get out. "That'd be nice."

Harry chuckled again, a deep rumbling from his chest. "Alright then. But we'd better get back to our room soon before that blood from your wings stains your shirt."

Draco twisted around and saw how the sudden expulsion of his wings tore his shirt- and his skin. "Oh-er-yeah. Good idea."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kk so I'm not sure if people actually read these, but if anyone wants, I can probably write a part two where they bang in the shower cuz that's where my mind was going when I was ending this. Cuz, y'know, Draco had to wash the dried blood off his skin and Harry wanted to, um, 'help'.


End file.
